Agence de Détectives Privés
by pyrotechnic stars
Summary: Follow the comedic adventures of Detective Inspectors Fuji and Oshitari, aspiring genius private eyes galore, as they struggle through the woes of poverty and destitution! Or, in which Syuusuke talks Yuushi into starting a consulting crime agency, Yuushi tries not to kill himself, and Atobe offers to pay them if they solve the case of his missing boxers.


_**Warnings:**_** Friendship that can be viewed as **_**mild**_** shounen-ai if you squint (because that's what people tend to do), excessive butchering of the detective noir genre, some language.**

_**Disclaimer:**_** I do not own Prince of Tennis or its respective characters. There's really nothing witty to say here.**

* * *

**CASE-01: In which Atobe's boxers are missing**

"Ne, Yuushi…"

"Hmm?" I spun around in my office chair and looked at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"I was thinking…" Syuusuke stroked his chin with thoughtful fingers, opening those rarely seen eyes of his. "Let's be detectives."

I leaned back and sighed wearily – you could never really tell when he would come up with an idea like that, out of the blue. But I feared not; with multiple doctorates in Law, Classical Philosophy, and Theoretical Physics, I was more than equipped to talk myself out of this difficult situation –

"Please, Yuushi?" he pleaded, batting his baby blues very endearingly at me.

_God damn it. _

I sighed again, resigned. "Fine,"

Because when his eyes started glinting with evil – er, I mean, with harmless mischief like that, there really was no stopping him.

Eh. Who was I kidding?

Syuusuke could make Satan cry.

With just his words.

* * *

And _that_ was why, one perfectly fine morning, we were cramped together in a dreary office instead of enjoying the rare winter sun outside. A crooked sign proudly declaring _'Agence de D__étectives Privés: Fuji S. & Oshitari Y.__' _was nailed (rather violently, courtesy of Syuusuke…who had looked entirely too happy swinging that hammer around) to the door.

We, of course, being just the two of us, were private investigators for hire – out to solve the disreputable crimes lingering in Japan's shady underground…apparently. It was probably really because he wanted to grill suspects under that 100 watt stare of his, that sadistic little minx.

He had insisted we name ourselves _'Agence de D__étectives Privés'_, because the French were, in his words, "so much more chic, Yuushi darling". This made absolutely no sense as we were currently in Japan, as I had _repeatedly_ pointed out, where the general consensus regarding the French language didn't extend beyond a cursory 'bonjour'. I suspected that Syuusuke's colorful naming of our agency was his petty retribution after I had managed to talk him out of pipe smoking (which was a miracle by itself).

At any rate, as I had frequently bemoaned, that probably explained our current sad, sad lack of business – we might as well have been postmen for all the rest of Tokyo knew. I sighed, a thing rapidly becoming a frequent occurrence, and stared longingly out of the one lonely window in the room. I had cleaned it a hundred times in the past week, for lack of anything else to do. It was _very_ clean.

A flying bird, clearly not paying close enough attention, smashed into the window pane and squawked indignantly.

_Bloody hell._

I felt my eye developing a twitch.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Syuusuke, can't we take a break outside for a –"

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door.

Somewhat dramatically, this well-dressed, flamboyant peacock of a man and his seven foot tall bodyguard burst into our abode. It didn't take a genius (let alone two) to figure out that there was something rotten in the state of er…Tokyo.

"My name is Oshitari Yuushi, and this is my partner Fuji Syuusuke. How may we help you?" I quickly shut the door and drew the blinds for some privacy – I was pretty sure that the real shifty fellow across the hall was smuggling exotic pet monkeys. But closing the door and window proved not to be the best of ideas, it seemed, as it also eliminated our major source of light. The lone light bulb that swung dejectedly from the ceiling cast a rather ominous glow about the room, reminiscent of a cheap horror film. I blinked.

Well, it was too late to do anything about it now. I mentally wondered if it could look any worse.

Syuusuke then kindly proffered him a delicate beanbag to sit on.

I winced, and had the strongest urge to hide behind my desk. The kindest way to describe our current office would be 'humble'. A more accurate description would be 'a possible squatting place for the homeless'. If you exclude all our electronic devices, that is. Anyhow, money was tight and ever since we blew off the last gas bill in the middle of winter, we had learnt to forego frivolities like chairs and…rent in order to not freeze to death. I briefly wondered if the monkey smuggler next door knew we were leeching off his Wi-Fi.

Our mystery man gave the offered 'chair' a dubious look.

"My name is Atobe Keigo," he provided graciously, as if addressing peasants. He sank with an air of superior dignity into aforementioned beanbag, a task which up until now I had thought was impossible.

"How may we help you Atobe-san?"

He frowned, tossing his gloriously shiny locks over his shoulder as he perched daintily upon his temporary throne, with legs crossed at their pretty little ankles.

_What a queen._

"Ore-sama will get straight to the point. Ore-sama would like to hire your services to find a pair of missing boxers."

I coughed to disguise my incredulity, and Syuusuke's infamous blue eyes shot open.

"I beg your pardon?"

Our visitor merely waved his hand dismissively and continued on, "The _Atobe_ _family_ boxers. My father wore them, and his father before him. And somebody had the nerve to steal them!" he harrumphed, obviously outraged.

Well it was hardly my place to judge, I thought silently. We _really_ needed a case.

"Ore-sama expects that you commoners wouldn't understand. Show them, Kabaji."

"Usu," his bodyguard Kabaji drew out some professionally developed photos of the prized boxers (the man spoke, I noted absently).

"Not just any boxers – boxers that are worth a fortune and have been passed down through the generations!" Atobe tapped a smooth, manicured finger on one glossy photo.

I looked at the pictures in disbelief – how anyone could wear that gem-encrusted monstrosity without chafing themselves to bits appeared beyond us mere mortals. It was more suggestive of chainmail than underwear. (Also notable was the unfortunate placement of two large, yellow-green stones right near the crotch of the undergarment, from which a curiously phallic gold ornament rose. I sincerely hoped that this was a representation of tennis paraphernalia.)

The point was, our client was loaded with daddy's family money. The kind of dangerous money my mother had always warned me about – and she knew her stuff, my mother did. For example, she had warned me about getting wheedled into starting a two-bit detective company with my questionably sane friend.

Wise woman, that.

"Why not call the police?" Syuusuke queried.

"These were stolen last night from ore-sama's personal safe. Ore-sama was and is still hosting a weekend stay with a group of work acquaintances. No one is aware of the theft just yet and no one left the grounds according to my guards, so the boxers must still be on the premises. Ore-sama does _not_ want the police involved in this shameful breach of security and nor does he want his other guests to be implicated with them."

"I'm not sure we're the right people for this job," Syuusuke mused.

I resisted the urge to slam my head against the nearest wall just to stop myself from screeching at him, having the sneaking suspicion that my partner just wanted to prolong my suffering.

"I would reward your services generously," our prospective client replied.

"Exactly how much are we talking about here, Atobe-san?" I asked, hoping Syuusuke would remain quiet for once. This was roughly the mathematical equivalent of hoping that hell would freeze over in the middle of July.

"400,000 yen, after you recover the item."

My heart pounded. No more bean bag chairs, poorly substituted instant ramen meals, or fighting Syuusuke (a lost cause, really) for the hiding space in the coat closet when our building manager came knocking on the first for the rent.

"700 grand, upfront." My partner countered.

_Well fuck me sideways._

My eye twitched. Dark memories of hiding in that tightly enclosed space flashed before my eyes; dark memories of Syuusuke pushed up against me, fidgeting in the _most_ uncomfortable way ON PURPOSE (that little sadist!), all the while cracking jokes about 'coming out of the closet'.

Our wealthy client glanced critically at the paint peeling off the walls, and at the cracked ceiling light. "You're crazy," he drawled at my partner.

Yes, yes he _was_.

"I'm sure we can compromise, Atobe-san." I offered, shooting Syuusuke a dirty look.

Atobe got on his feet to leave, brushing off the imaginary dust particles off his coat. I thought he was going to slam the door on us, and hopefully break that stupid sign Syuusuke had made in the process, but he merely paused by the entrance. "I hope you two are good at finding things. 500,000 yen paid afterwards, take it or leave it."

"We'll need an expense account."

He was going to be the death of me.

"Done. Kabaji, leave a card with these…_gentlemen_. Ore-sama will be expecting your call later today for any inquires. You have less than 48 hours until the guests have to leave, at which point if there is no evidence, they will be free to go. Good day."

"Usu."

And with that, the unlikely-looking duo was gone. I finally breathed out and poured myself a drink of scotch, before making it a double.

Sobriety around here tended to inhibit one's sanity.

"Syuusuke."

"Yes?" He smiled innocently.

"Remind me to do the talking next time."

"But I got us more money…" he whined. _Touché. _

"I don't think it's worth the coronary you almost gave me."

"Aw, Yuushi, you're no fun."

Sigh. "Let's just get to work; I don't want to be broke again."

"Killjoy."

**CASE-01: To be continued…**

* * *

**Next time on Agence de D****étectives Privés****:**

We were running out of time.

Yuushi's eye twitched as he mentally ran over the facts we'd been given. Again.

"Any ideas, Syuusuke?"

"…"

I was very helpful.

"Come on. _Think_. We have a combined IQ of 349 – this should be a piece of cake."

"Oh, that's a good idea, Yuushi. I _am_ feeling peckish. I think I shall go buy us some cake."

"You're going to what?!" Yuushi grabbed my shoulders and shook them theatrically.

_Oy vey._

I quickly sidestepped out the door before he could protest more, chirping "A calm mind is a clear mind, my dear. Don't be so stressed out!" and pretending not to hear as he mumbled something very rude under his breath.

"Tsk, tsk. Relax, or you'll get spots, Yuushi." I twittered as he looked mildly horrified. "I'll be back soon!"

He slammed the door in my face, causing our agency insignia to swing rather precariously by the nail. I whistled a cheerful tune as I tilted it _just so_, such that the sign was charmingly crooked. I was damn proud of that sign.

Yuushi never really liked it, but if you ask me, he's just bitter because my name came first.

As I left, I could hear a muffled noise through the door. It was, curiously enough, Yuushi muttering what sounded awfully like "Tick tock, tick tock goes the clock…" as he undoubtedly paced around the room. Not very like his usual suave, debonair self – but then again, he never was much like that around me. Always so frazzled, I thought.

But never fear. I, Fuji Syuusuke, private investigator extraordinaire, with a massive one IQ point lead on fellow resident genius Oshitari Yuushi, had a plan.

A _big_ plan.

A big, _awful_ plan.

A big, awful _wonderful_ plan to catch our little mystery boxer thief.

* * *

**_A/N:_**** This will be finished! But first I should reread some of my mystery crime books for inspiration. As for why Atobe would hire a pair of clearly broke would-be detectives, well…**

**It must be the French sign! Point one goes to Fuji.**

**Poor Oshitari.**

**_EDIT:_ Any requests for particular suspects next chapter? Maybe the rest of Hyoutei? I'm open to ideas/suggestions!  
**


End file.
